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by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bookshop, Ficlet, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Reading, Them being happy, after the armageddon, aziraphale is happy to find his bookshop rebuilt, ineffable husbands, light touching, soft, they are both nerds, who are perfect for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 14:51:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20490671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Home

Of course they become inseparable after the averted apocalypse.

There’s no yours or mine anymore. There’s just home._ Let’s go home, _Aziraphale says after their date at the Ritz. And, the truth is, it has always been their home. The bookshop. The place Crowley associates with warmth and safety, where he’s hidden himself many times in the past, where all his fears just disappear and he can sleep in peace. They go there. They go home. 

But it’s not quite like he remembers. 

The feeling’s stronger. The walls remember him in the fire. They witnessed his grief and rage. They know how deep the bond goes and they are ready to protect it.

Because, just look at him. Aziraphale belongs here. The bookshop loves him back. It’s a joy, watching him reunite with it. He is adorable. The way he touches the backs of the books and hugs the pillars upon which the ceiling stands. The way he frowns at the new titles but can’t quite hide his interest in reading them.

Crowley falls even deeper. Not sure how that is possible, but he does.

He leaves him to it and explores the rest of the place, with his own eyes this time. The backroom looks the same as ever. There’s the sofa and the armchair, the desk and the wardrobe. It’s not much. It’s very small in fact. So small, Crowley starts playing with the idea of rebuilding it into something bigger. Something with a bedroom for a start.

And so he gets on with it. He doesn’t change much about it since he wants to preserve its cosiness but he does let his imagination run a bit wild.

He adds another sofa and a fluffy carpet that covers the entire floor. He elevates the ceiling and miracles a fancy chandelier that he hangs from it because it looks dope. He leaves the backroom (now a proper living room) be and proceeds onto the next important room, the bathroom. He builds a bath, about the size of a small swimming pool and installs five different kinds of faucets to the bottom. 

At last, he miracles a bedroom that would make any couple jealous.

Speaking of couples, he goes to find Aziraphale.

Of course he finds him reading.

Crowley smiles because he should have known. He sits down next to him, leaning closer to his body heat, resting his head on his shoulders.

He squints at the letters.

“What’s it about?”

“Hmm?”

Crowley chuckles and presses a kiss to his cheek. He doesn’t repeat his question. Instead, he moves even closer to him and slides his hand under his shirt. He feels him shiver from the unexpected touch.

His fingers spread as far as they can and run upwards to his torso. The touch to his nipples is very gentle and slow. Crowley closes his eyes and concentrates only on Aziraphale’s sharp intakes of breath, on the way he relaxes into his touch and starts leaning into it. 

Before he knows it, there are lips on his own, demanding to be let inside. He smiles against them because that was easy. He hears the book clink against the floor and then there are hands sliding into his hair, pulling his face impossibly close. A moan escapes his lips.

He almost forgets about their new bedroom. Almost.

It’s later that night when they are both falling asleep that Crowley realises that the pain, that constant fear of losing the angel, is gone now. For good. They’ve won.


End file.
